


Unconditional

by bearonthecouch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, Post-Dragon Age: Origins Quest - Broken Circle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: In some ways, they have changed almost beyond recognition from that teacher and student hiding in a classroom late at night. But in other ways, nothing has changed at all.
Relationships: Female Amell & Wynne (Dragon Age)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Unconditional

When she looks at her, she doesn't see a blood mage. Wynne sees a child, one of her own, alone and afraid and in pain. How could she not be, after what they have just been through? The older woman boils a pot of tea over the campfire and pours two cups, then goes over to the Warden's tent. The mabari hound barks and sniffs at her feet. Rhyanon Amell is sitting on her bedroll, knees tucked up to her chin. "Quiet," she orders the dog, who whines, but backs away from Wynne and then settles at his master's feet protectively. Amell reaches out a hand and runs it slowly down the dog's back. The mabari shakes his head, and begins to lick at the girl's other hand.

"Can I come in?" Wynne asks carefully.

Rhyanon's eyes shift over to the woman silhouetted in the entrance to her tent. "Would you listen to me if I said no?"

"Of course I would," Wynne says, but she is shaking her head as she says it, negating her own assertion. She ducks and steps into the tent, carefully balancing the two teacups. She sits down just inside the tent flaps that shut behind her. The tent is not tall enough for her to be able to comfortably stand.

"Tea still doesn't make me feel better," Rhyanon says. Wynne smiles, remembering a girl barely into adolescence, rejecting a beverage if not an offer of help. In some ways, they have changed almost beyond recognition from that teacher and student hiding in a classroom late at night. But in other ways, nothing has changed at all.

Wynne sets a teacup down next to Rhyanon and takes a sip from her own cup, savoring the sweetness of the sugar she'd swirled inside. She takes a steadying breath and then looks at Rhyanon. "I don't think anyone ever thanked you for saving the Circle," she says.

The girl shrugs. "I had to," she replies, as Wynne seems to be expecting her to say something.

"It must have been hard, for you to come back to that."

Rhyanon sucks in a ragged breath, and she wipes her arm across her face. She's not crying, exactly, but the swirls of emotion inside of her are tangible to someone as strong in the Spirit school as Wynne is.

"I never wanted to come back at all," Rhyanon admits. "Does that make me a coward?"

"You are many things, Rhyanon Amell, but a coward is not one of them."

Rhyanon nods slowly. She reaches out for her cooling mug of tea and takes a tentative sip. "Did you know him? Uldred?"

"He was my student, once. He was... very gifted. Always asking questions, trying new experiments, pushing the boundaries of what magic could do. He didn't believe in the word 'impossible.' Drove the templars mad when he was younger..." She trails off, and squeezes her eyes shut so that Rhyanon won't see the tears threatening to fall. Another one of her children, corrupted beyond recognition. History would remember him only as a monster. Wynne might be the only one to remember the boy he once was.

"I'm not like him!" Rhyanon snaps, to Wynne or to herself or to the empty air.

Wynne only shakes her head. "No. You aren't."

"But I'm a blood mage! _Maleficarum._ Why don't you hate me like everyone else?"  
  
"Oh, my dear," Wynne whispers. She wraps her arms around the girl who some are already calling the Hero of the Blight. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

"I hate myself," Rhyanon says. The words are a barely choked out whisper.

Wynne only hugs her tighter. "You're beautiful. I know it's hard to see right now, when we are surrounded by so much darkness and death, but Amell, you have always been a light to those around you. People follow you. That isn't an accident."

"They don't know the truth. They don't see... didn't people follow Uldred, too?"

"I don't need to tell you how much anger and hurt the mages of the Circle carry inside them. Uldred promised vengeance against the templars. He offered that vengeance to _you._ "

"He wanted to turn me into a demon!"

"And you are stubborn and strong-willed enough to resist. Even your use of blood magic is only to fight for your own survival. You have not turned it against anyone else."

"I wouldn't do that."

Wynne sighs. "The Chantry tells a clean story, of heroes and villains, clear lines of black and white. Life isn't like that. It's complicated and painful, and people can be more than one thing. You can be _maleficarum_ and Hero. Rhyanon, Uldred was gifted, but you... I admire you."

" _Why?_ "

"Because when you were thirteen years old and angry at the world, do you remember what I told you?"  
  
"That I had to channel that anger into something useful. Something helpful."

"That's right. And you may never delve into healing beyond simple first aid, but you have done exactly what I wished for you: you have taken your anger, and your pain, and your fear, and you have used it to help others. And now I wish that you could see yourself as others see you."

Wynne twines her fingers through Rhyanon's long blonde hair and begins working it into a loose braid. She keeps expecting the girl to pull away, but as Wynne has fallen back into her old role as teacher, and more than that, mother figure to a frightened child newly come from Kirkwall, far across the Waking Sea, Rhyanon appears to have fallen back into needing safety, someone she can trust.

And who can blame her, after watching the only home she'd had for most of her life fall prey to demons, while the world outside succumbs to the ever-growing Blight.

"Do you think anything will change, in the Circle?" Rhyanon asks. "Won't the templars only crack down harder?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes. I can see no other way for this to play out."  
  
"Is that why you left?"

"I left because of you, Rhyanon. Because you are my student, even if you are grown. If I can be here for you when you most need me... how can I turn away from you?"

Rhyanon pulls away from Wynne, and the older mage half-expects her to deny needing anyone, much less the old lady who'd done her best to protect her from templar attentions when she was younger. But what she says, instead, is a quiet "Thank you."

Wynne squeezes her shoulder, and picks up the empty teacups. "I'll go," she says, "But Rhyanon, I am always here for you, alright? No matter what."

Rhyanon nods slowly, knowing Wynne means it, that she is one of the very few who offers unconditional caring, support, even love. There's not supposed to be any such thing as love in the Circle Tower. But what Wynne feels for her children... if not love, what else could it be?


End file.
